


Hot n' Cold

by EyeofMazikeen



Series: Songs in The Key of MorMor [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, mormor, song ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeofMazikeen/pseuds/EyeofMazikeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Hot n' Cold' by Katy Perry</p>
<p>Fifth in the series of a MorMor themed songficlets that were originally posted on Tumblr. Prompt included the song, verses, and a request for 'moody/crazy Jim and patient/long suffering Sebastian'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot n' Cold

_**You change your mind like a girl changes clothes** _

_**Yeah, you PMS like a bitch; I would know** _

_**And you always think, always speak cryptically** _

_**I should know, that you're no good for me** _

 

Living with Jim was an adventure.  An adventure that demanded you sleep with a gun and be ready for anything.  So when the smoke alarm went off during one of Sebastian’s rare afternoon naps there wasn’t any panic.  It wasn’t the best thing he’d woken up to in the last six months, but it certainly wasn’t the worst.  Hell, even half asleep he knew it didn’t even make the top ten.  Effortlessly, the large blonde grabbed his pistol, bolted out of bed, and sprinted for Jim’s workroom.

His mad little mastermind could have gotten into anything while puttering around unsupervised.  It could’ve been Jim trying to cook, or a smoldering corpse in the bathtub.  Just about anything was possible.  In six months being Jim’s live in... whatever... Sebastian had seen more odd things than his entire tour in Afghanistan.  Though this wasn’t exactly time for reflection.  No, it was time for action.  Bolting down the hallway, Seb reached the workroom door only to find it locked and smoking slightly.  Testing the temperature, he was relieved to find it normal.

“Jim!  The fuck is going on?”  One fist pounded on the door, though the sniper at least had the good sense to stand to the side of the door while knocking.  The incident with the rock salt had left quite the impression.  Several, in fact.

The mumbled response that issued from within may have been “BUSY” or “SAVE ME”.  Taking no chances, Seb kicked at the door.  The frame or Jim’s patience; one would give eventually.  It was the doorframe.  Thankfully, the room wasn’t as smoky as he had feared.  Once his eyes adjusted to the sting in the air, he surveyed the scene.

In the center of the room sat a smoldering bin; inside were what looked to be the remains of a few suits coats and some trousers.  Looking up, Seb realized the smaller man was sitting half in, half outside the window wearing nothing but his black briefs.  Judging by the expression on his face, Jim might have set the offending articles of clothing on fire with his hateful glare.

“Jim.”  When no knives were produced out of thin air and either thrown or brandished, Sebastian closed the distance between them.  One large hand reached out, settling on the curve of the smaller man’s shoulder.  Gently, the sniper shook his boss but got no response.  

“Jim?”  Another shake, and suddenly the criminal had flung himself at Sebastian, hanging from his neck and covering it in hot, open mouthed kisses.  The warm welcome only lasted a few seconds.  As quickly as he had struck, Moriarty let go of his sniper and immediately backhanded Sebastian as hard as he could.  Looking down, the sniper’s stomach flipped.  That was Jim’s “somebody’s going to be losing their thumbs over this” look.

“You interrupted me.”  His voice was low and dangerous, gaze cold.  Seb got the impression that Jim was calculating the yardage of his skin, possibly for a new blazer.  Suddenly the storm dissipated.  Jim’s face brightened with a smile as he leaped forward to plant a kiss directly on Seb’s lips.

“But you know what Tiger?  This could be fun too!”

 

_**'Cause you're hot then you're cold** _

_**You're yes then you're no** _

_**You're in then you're out** _

_**You're up and you're down** _

_**You're wrong when it's right** _

_**It's black and it's white** _

_**We fight, we break up** _

_**We kiss, we make up** _

 

So it was going to be one of **those** moods.  Caution before libido then.  Pulling back, cobalt eyes raked over Jim’s thin frame appraisingly.  No obvious tells of... well.  Anything.  Other than some smeared soot brushing over one cheekbone, Jim looked relatively... normal.  That was perhaps more frightening than anything.

“Boss?  What’s going on?”  Better to use the title if Jim was feeling titchy.  Rolling his chestnut eyes, Jim went from happy to irritated in the span of a heartbeat.

“You were asleep.  I tried to work.  I did.  But that fucker from Munich was being a total twat again, so I maaaaaaybe managed to get an order out on his life before I shot the fucking computer.”  The remains of a case, certainly not the only computer in the room by any stretch, lay on the floor, three holes in its side.  Not for the first time, Sebastian was extremely grateful that Jim’s workroom was soundproof.  Wordlessly, Seb raised an eyebrow and looked at smoldering pile of suits in the bin.

“You have something to say, Moran?”  The tone was knife edged, dangerous.  And obviously baiting.

“Nosir.”  Easily enough answered.  After all, despite the scars he might boast, Sebastian Moran was quite adept at preserving his hide.  In an instant, the fit of pique seemed forgotten as Jim had bounded up off the

“I wanted to go out.  But I. HAVE. NOTHING. TO. WEAR.  The coats were just so BORING.”  He started to pace back and forth in front of Sebastian, becoming increasingly agitated.

“This is your fault.”  That lilt was pure venom.  If words were caustic, anything spoken in that tone would eat away right to the bone.  “If you hadn’t been asleep none of this would have happened.”  His sniper shrugged broad shoulders and tried to look contrite.  

“Sorry sir.”  As Seb had heard a million times before ‘you can't argue with crazy’.  There wasn’t any winning this.  Now it was just about mitigating the damage.

“Sebastian, if you’re going to be so FUCKING BORING you should just get out!”  One blonde eyebrow twitched in response to the order.  That was either very good, or very very bad.  A cutting gaze from Jim was all it took to convince him to back away, and slowly at that.  Seb nodded, knowing that look in particular.  That was the ‘out for blood’ look, and not in the several acceptable ways that they enjoyed dabbling in.  Distance was the safest option until Jim calmed down.

“How long do you want me out, boss?”  In response, Jim snatched up a still smoldering shoe out of the bin and tossed it at Sebastian’s head.  Seb barely managed to get one calloused hand up in time to prevent it from hitting him in the face.

“NO you fucking idiot!  You’re supposed to make it better!”

“Ok, want to go to dinner, boss?  Maybe shop afterwards?”

“NO.  Now I want you to GET THE FUCK OUT.”

“Fine.  Ok.  Right.  I’m leaving.  I’ll be back later.”

“FOREVER,” Jim shrieked after him, and Seb kept going.  Doing the recently learned Jim-math in his head, ‘forever’ ended up being about four hours give or take.  Come back any sooner and he’d at least sport a few new bruises for his trouble.  Any later and... well.  That didn’t merit thinking about.  Fortunately that had only happened once.  Sebastian Moran was nothing if not a quick learner, especially when it came to Jim.  Snatching up his coat and keys, the sniper managed to hit the hallway to the front door before the diminutive brunette was on his back, biting and clawing and screaming.  Oh.  It was one of those ‘leave forever’s.

“Don’t you DARE fucking leave me!  EVER.”  Like he ever would.  Suddenly irritated, Sebastian flung himself backward against a wall, stunning Jim, who slid off his shoulders with a defeated ‘whumph’.  Evidently having the wind knocked out of him settled the manic fit of temper he was having, at least temporarily .  When Seb turned around to face the smaller man he was all fluttering eyelashes, blown pupils, and and pouty smile.

“If I promise to get you ice cream and suck your cock later, can we just forget this happened?”

Leaning in to steal a bruising kiss, Sebastian muttered “Blowjob first.”  Apparently that was not the right answer, as Jim latched onto his bottom lip with enough force to draw blood when he tried to pull away.  Fortunately the little fucker was mollified when the coppery tang of his sniper’s blood hit his palate, because he pressed back into the larger blonde with renewed vigor.  Lip met lip, stubble brushed against stubble, and Sebastian savored the taste of his own blood and the distinctly bittersweet taste of his mad little boss.

Breakup.  Makeup.  Fuck.  There might be wounds.  Hell.  There’d always be wounds.  James Moriarty was a constantly running tap of hot and cold flowing crazy.  Didn’t matter.  Because Jim?  Jim was **worth** it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like MorMor ficlet of your own, please feel free to drop me a line! I'm currently taking requests, so send me your song, the verses (if you want to pick them yourself), and a prompt (if you have one) and I'll post you some MorMor in return!


End file.
